I'm sure no one wants to know abt my weekend, but I'm seriously out of inspiration. She's missing. Eloped. Resigned. Given notice. Run away. I'm out of words. i'm out of ideas. i'm out of things to say. So I'm posting this silly post, which I might change my mind and delete sometime soon.
Was moaning to the guru abt the fact that i have nothing to write. for a moment i thought we started a story abt a girl that goes missing, but then he went missing. So that was that.
Its been raining all weekend. friday, after work, rushed down to the gym for circuit. trg. it was a killer. i had expected more weight training but it was more killer jumpupon10feettallreeboksteppers kind of stuff. left you feeling good though. with the tiredness comes a slippery, effervascent, kind of selfestee, with a fleeting life span.
They went on to the pub, and dancing. Obviously not one for such merry pursuits, I came up with some interesting and colourful things I had to do at home, infact, was even latefor (reminding myself of thomas from book against god) or of course of harry from steppenwolf.
Somehow dragged my aching limbs home, and plonked on the floor with my orange security blanket. Nothing to watch on the telly. Nothing to eat in the house. There was some beef I'd planned for this weekend but too tired to cook. Weekly quota of movies has not arrived. Dmn lovefilm.com. So I watched 'Naach' instead. Is she awesome, or is she awesome. (note: no question mark)
Saturday, went to the library, got late for rowing, ran to the bus-stop and then to the boathouse. Rowed for hour (ish) with new crew, and on stroke side (2). I hate rowing on stroke side.
By the time I got home I was really tired, but happy. Slept till 8 in the PM. Woke up to choco bikkis and the new coffee. Arabic. Strong. Fruity. Aromatic. Suitable for after dinner. Soon buying coffee will be as spooky as buying wine. Made some nice beef curry and pilau, proper stuff with saffron and rose water and ghee and almonds and all that ... interesting combination. By now the movies of the weekend were here: Hero (Quentin T), The man who would be King, Mothman Prophecies and Igby goes Down. They were all boring, though I goes the last was the least. Called Mom. Called Dad. Called Sister. Called A for a long chat. He's sick of life. He's bored. He doesnt know where the f life is going. S (with better half and baby) is back home again. He didnt get to see her. C is really disgusted with him cz he couldnt be bothered to come for founders day socials. for heavens sake man ... can u now be blase abt School. Schocking. Schacrilege. Schmuck. however, all's forgiven now as he is on parole and has spent long hours of quality time with her and her newly found dude. Oh Dmn! I'm too bored and listless even to make fun. I dreamt of everyone last night:
It was raining. It was late afternoon, after an interact meeting. Chatts, Sauce, Addy and myself were sitting on that little red concrete thing (just outside the rawdon st. gate, on the left and brgging johnny the ice cream man to give us one free ice cream. Major mix up - we used to only do this really shameful begging act much before 'interact-and-all-that' (read boys) happened to us. Anyway, we were just sitting there and moaning about how we and our lives are competing for worthlessness.
Then we are in San Antonio and my patio, its dark. really late. no human sounds. theres the green wire garden chair. The rain falls in a glittering curtain from the parapet of the floor above. the air smells of loads of IK. the black, slick, wet road in front sends off a load swish of car wheels every some time. cz the road never sleeps. if u close ur eyes and throw ur head back, u can make blv its the sea.
Then I woke up. Does it mean anything? Does anything mean anything. Life? Dreams? Selves? When I was young I thought of people as one of 2 types. Those who realise its a game and refuse to play it, and those who think its real and get all into it. As I grow old, and older still, I see so many shades inbetween. My favourite is the ones who see through it, still play it, as if mocking themselves, or life itself.
Maybe I wanna go back in time. Or do I? Sometimes I think the ecstacies of childhood are really overrated. U cant support urself, u cant defend urself, u cant even really think for urself. Worst of all, it never really goes away, does it?
An open query: how does this comments thing work? Are you supposed to reply to comments people have left on ur blog or do they not really want an answer? If yes, then do u reply on ur blog or theres. If on urs - how will they know u've replied. If on theirs, how will they get the thread? i know its a little late in the day, but I'm really confused.
Originally Posted at Prerona.